More Finger Talking...like sign language but less coherent.

I'm back for another gibber-fest. Sionara spelling (see:sionara?? wtf? How do I decide to use words I can't spell?) Adios grammar, Arrividerchi (O_o) cohesive sentences and paragraphs. I'm hoping if I spew out enough of these pathetic filler posts that my 'creativeness' will reawaken and I'll be able to produce a quality post. Or two.

I've had two cups of coffee already and just stirred my third. I used to drink my coffees 'double double', which for those of you who aren't familiar with my Canadian lingo (or are from Quebec for some damn reason) means two cream and two sugar. Which of course means two milk and two sugar at home because there is no way I'm paying that much money just for cream.
Anyways, I began drinking so much coffee that it actually started tasting too sweet. When I order a coffee from a restaurant (ex. Tim Horton's or McDonald's) I still order a double double, but when I make my pot of coffee at home I've been only using ONE sugar. Also, if you ever order coffee from Coffee Time they put WAY TOO MUCH sugar in their coffee so I'd advise asking for one less than your normal...
Reducing my coffee one sugar isn't a huge deal, but it got me thinking about how rarely it is that I have coffee with another person who puts ANY sugar into their drink. I'm wondering if this is a big health thing, or if as we grow up people start to notice that their delicious beverages are too sweet. And if that is the case, then how is there still a market for pop?!?

Yeah, randoms.

My kids are awesome. I want to give them everything but, obviously, can't afford it. I even tried to become a Step 2 Test Drive Mom recently, so that I could recieve Step 2 play equipment from the company and then review their products for them. I love talking about things that I like or dislike, and then the kids would get to play with toys that I otherwise could not afford. Unfortunately, they aren't accepting new Test Drive Moms at this time, and gave me a time to reapply with my MEDIA KIT.
Now, it might just be me, but I don't know WHAT a media kit is. I googled it, and before getting frustrated, got the impression that it is something that proves that I'm an awesome Blogger and I have a buttload of followers, full of people that would care what I thought about their toys, and possibly even want to purchase items from them. Or something.
Either way, my paranoia and other terrible personality traits are convinced that this is something that I'd fail at, so my mind has decided not to pursue this any further. I've been considering starting another blog that would revolve solely around my kids and the antics that we get up to in every day life. Something that I could even use my real identity with because I could keep all of my dark secrets over here in Anonymous Land.

But that's just another thing I've been thinking about, like going back to school and cooking better food more often.

Signing off now. Gudentag.

Worthiness

I haven't been writing because I feel like I have nothing worthy to say. Good to say. Worthy to write about...whatever.

Whatever comes out of my fingers and into the keyboard is going to be posted. Not proof-read. Not "saved for later", as so many of my other posts have been lately. Floating around in the abiss of cyber-space, forever wanting to please but never being given the chance.

I'm back to feeling poopy sometimes. I've been doing some soul-searching and have figured that it comes down to me not feeling like a good person since I'm not taking advantage of any of the time I have to learn things. I just bum around.

So, I've been thinking of taking online courses for school. Slowly. One course at a time which, if done steadily, will land me with a diploma in oh, twelve years.

Oh my f-king gawsh! Why would anyone want to take TWELVE YEARS to earn a diploma?!?!

Well, it's better this way for me. My kids could still come first; I could earn my entire diploma online and only have to arrange babysitting for midterms and exams; I can't afford more than one course at a time (they're around $600 per class and textbook); and, my personal favourite, I'm not planning on actually working outside of my home until my youngest child is much older and independent. In fact, after I get my diploma (assuming I do...) I would plan on working out of my home. For years.

Andddddd all of the words are going out of my head and I'm panicking about life decisions again and this is only my first cup of coffee and I smell poo and I really need to wash the laundry because there's a lot of cleaning to be done before Easter weekend for various reasons.

The And. (get it??)

Springin' Back

With the unseasonably warm weather that has joined us in March, I have begun to shed my winter coat (see: funk) and am looking forward to getting out and doing tons of fun things this year.

Life has been pretty epic for me lately. With moving into our new house, settling in and really enjoying Christmas, and watching the kids grow and develope. Plus, we got a dog. Sweet!

I've been enjoying every day a little bit more than I had, even in February, and this year promises to have adventures galore.

I hope everyone had a happy and loving winter and that you are all looking forward and making plans.

It's easy to flounder in despair if you have nothing to look forward to.

Lots of love,
dysfunction

I'm a Follower...what?

The Oatmeal is doing an awesome contest over at his blog. If you haven't read The Oatmeal before, it is some funny shiz and you should really add him to your list of reading materials.

PS, I entered. So, here: I'm funny.

Twelve Days 'Til Christmas

*cue music*

There are twelve days until Christmas, and to say that I'm excited may be a bit of an understatement.

Christmas is my favourite time of year. Ever. And so every December November October September I start to get super excited about Christmas and plan out every little detail. The best part is that my "Christmas" normally extends far past the 25th, on either side.

On the... 7th? I think it was the 7th, we purchased our real Christmas tree. That means that after the kidlets went to bed we put out all of the presents from the family - to the family, and that on the 8th we had it fully decorated.

Yes, we put the presents out before Christmas. The children are allowed in the room, there are no gates to keep them away, the rule is that they are not allowed to touch the presents before Christmas. Thus far my 1 and 3 year old children follow the rules and do not touch the presents. (To be honest, Splat *did* touch a bow on one of them, before I told her not to. There have been no repeats of this behaviour.)

On the 10th Boyfriend and I decorated (and cleaned...boy was that needed) all of the main floor, which is in addition to the small artificial tree that has been up and decorated in the girls' room since November, and the tiny artificial tree that has been up and decorated on the pipe chase of the landing on the staircase since December 1st. It is amazing to be able to sit by the glow of the tree lights in the evening, sipping my tea and becoming greatly nostalgic. My anticipation of Christmas greatly exceeds the children's at this point. I think they'll be more pumped come the 23rd or so.

So what does that leave for the last twelve days prior to Christmas?

*ahem*

On the twelfth day 'fore Christmas I will stay at home: putting out the large item garbage.

On the eleventh day 'fore Christmas I will be at home: cleaning and organizing.

On the tenth day 'fore Christmas I have an appointment, followed by best friend coffee.

On the ninth day 'fore Christmas the family will write letttttttterrrrrrs to Santa.

On the eighth day 'fore Christmas Santa will reply, and ifIcangetbabysittingwe'll visit friends for dinner!

On the seventh day 'fore Christmas I'm hosting a potluck lunch, for one person maybe two. (probably just coffee...bring cookies.)

On the sixth day 'fore Christmas I will go to Walmart and buy gravy trains and tablecloths.

On the fifth day 'fore Christmas I will go shopping, and buy all the food for Christmas dinner.

On the fourth day 'fore Christmas we will be at home: cleaning and organizing.

On the third day 'fore Christmas we'll be in the kitchen: doing our Christmas baking.

On the second day 'fore Christmas we'll host Christmas dinner: for Boyfriend's Mom and family.

On the last day 'fore Christmas we'll go to extended family Christmas dinner. And put out cookies and milk for Santa. And Santa will come after we're sleeping. And we'll watch Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer. Sweet.

On Christmas...IT'S CHRISTMAS!!! AHAHAHAHA!!!! YAYYYYY!!!!! We'll open stockings and presents, and then have breakfast (useless meal on Christmas). Later, Shake'n'Bake will go to her dad's house, and we'll go to Boyfriend's Dad's house for Christmas dinner.

For the next couple of days we'll relax at home. Yes!

Then on the 28th Shake'n'Bake comes home and we go to my Dad's house for Christmas dinner. Yay!


About January 10th we'll take down the tree. Christmas is the greatest time of year.


So what are your plans for the 12 Days 'Fore Christmas? If you're super creative you can write them all out and I'll post them on the blog, or you can make your own blog post and send me the link. I'll post the links here!

Book Review - Shotgun Gravy

Dear Everyone:

Read this book immediately.

This is my first PDF purchase, and at only $0.99 (Black Friday sale (it came to $1.07 (or 4) Canadian)) it is a steal.

A short 'novella', the first in a series of four, Shotgun Gravy (Chuck Wendig) deals with bullying on an extreme level. Read through it and become empowered as SOMEONE seeks justice for terrible acts of bullying.

Go here: http://terribleminds.com/ramble/2011/11/25/black-friday-ninety-nine-cent-fiction/ to purchase the book.

Colourful Pride

Do you ever feel horrendously proud of yourself for something that shouldn't be that big of a deal?

That's where I am.

Shake'n'Bake goes to a 2-4 year olds gymnastic program at our local community center once a week, and during this time she has made a super best friend whom she loves to play with and hold hands. It's adorable, trust me.

Well, the other week at gymnastics Shake'n'Bake and her best friend (let's call her Megan) were holding hands when my adorable and curious 3 year old looks down and asks me:

"Mommy, why is Megan's hand dark brown

and my hand is light brown?"

Oh, did I mention that one of Megan's parents is (GUESSING!) African American?

I swallowed the enormous ball in my throat and prepared to deal with my child's first question about race.

"Well look," I said, placing my hand near theirs, "Mommy's hand is a different colour than yours, just like Megan's hand is a different colour than yours. Everyone has a different colour of skin, just like hair, and eyes."

I was preparing for the next fatal blow when Shake'n'Bake just accepted this (as the fact that it is...really, c'mon) and the two of them ran off to jump on a mat together.

And it was done. I had explained different skin colours as casually and truthfully to my 3 year old as I could, and she accepted it as nothing unusual.

And I was SO proud of myself that I had to tell people. A lot of people. So there.

The Week(s) From Hell

Well, not really. Things have been super awesome - they've just been super busy.

Oh, except the sicknesses. Both girls and hubby (and this morning my throat is hurting) are/have been sick. Nose running, head pounding, cough inducing, grump causing sick. Oh, and Shake'n'Bake threw up on my birthday.

During these past few weeks of sickness I have been packing everything I can get my grubby little paws on, in an effort to make moving day (and the days leading up to said day) much easier. I have purchased sooooooo many diapers and Easy Ups that I have a dangerous tower in my bathroom of unboxed diapers.

And yes, it is dangerous, it fell on my head the other day. *insert sad face*

As of yesterday, not only did I use my last box, but I also filled the toybox (soon to be the front hall chest), two baskets, one plastic bucket, one bag, and packed the PlayStation3 into its appropriate box filling the extra spaces with other living room items.

No more boxes. Finit. All done. Exhausted.

I've considered buying more diapers and Easy Ups, but even I have my limits, and I believe that having 10 sleeves of diapers and 8 sleeves of Easy Ups that I will have to move loose is it.

For the past 10 days or so (wayyyy too lazy to count right now) my awesome friends have been coming to my house and babysitting my rugrats for free so that Boyfriend and I can go and work our buns off (see: renovate) at the new house.

With Dad and Brother, we've scraped all of the old stucco off the ceilings, removed all of the trim from the house, pulled up two rooms worth of carpet, three rooms worth of tile, one hall worth of...plywood floor?, drywalled, taped, sanded, cleaned, wiped, primed, and painted. And we're not done.

We move in 5 days and as of right now, my goal is to have both bedrooms fully painted, carpeted, and trimmed. That'd be sweet.

Then we just live in the small area that is upstairs for a few weeks while the main floor gets finished (acutal finish time is greatly unknown: a few weeks is my hopeful guess) and then stick to the main and upper floors whilst the basement is polished.

Sometimes......
Picture from here.

The Most Disgusting and Horrifying Thing I Have Ever Seen

This is the most disgusting thing I have ever seen.

It is extremely graphic and disturbing.

I'm Not Weird, I'm Gifted

For years I had a keychain with those exact words on it: "I'm Not Weird, I'm Gifted". Some novelty piece of garbage that I paid over two dollars for, because it really related to me. It related to how ostracized I felt from the main stream kids, how they viewed us 'gifties' as the elite, geniuses, who thought ourselves better than them.

Sometimes we did.

Please keep in mind that this post is based on MY experiences and opinions, and that I cannot speak for my peers.

Most of our class took the gifted testing during Grade 2 in order to qualify for the gifted program in Grade 3, and then we were told from a very young age that we were special, and more advanced than our main stream peers. You can imagine that this inflated our egos (at least mine) and we used to have a huge sense of animosity towards the main stream kids that we shared our school with. Even more so, towards the French Immersion kids that we shared our buses with.

The Gifted Program was designed to provide a more challenging curriculum to children who had the ability to learn faster than our main stream cohorts. This simple sentence was my defence throughout most of highschool, as I had to defend my stupidity and poor grades to throes of my peers who would snicker and say: "But aren't you gifted?"


"Gifted doesn't mean I'm smart," I'd retort, "it means I have the ability to learn faster. I choose not to use that ability."


Then we'd all laugh at my failures in life and move on.


When we came to school in Grade 3 as students of the gifted program, we were told that things were going to be different. That they were going to change. Before, we were big fish in a little pond; now, we were to be little fish in a big pond...not necessarily the best of our class.

Of course, every class has to have a student at the top, and a student at the bottom. In one swift year I went from being the top of my class in my main stream program, to one of the class clowns with one of the lowest grades in the gifted program. It destroyed my self confidence. It became easier (and a deeply ingrained self-defense mechanism) to laugh off my failures, play the fool, and pretend that grades were not important to me.

When we got to highschool, half of our classes were gifted classes, and the other half of our classes were main stream classes where we were split up and integrated into normal classes with normal kids.

It was terrifying.

I had spent 6 years forming lasting bonds and friendships with the other 'gifties' and quite suddenly I was expected to go out and interact with the kids who had been rude and torturous to us 'gifties' for our entire elementary lives.

We had formed no external social skills. No way to meet new people, fit into different social circles, anything. I relied heavily on my class-clownery to make new friends, and for a while I was successful. I was funny, people liked to spend time with me to hear and see all of the crazy antics I would come up with in the span of a class. Then one day, another giftie happened to mention that she...and I...were gifted students.


I lost half of my friends that day. People just stopped talking to me.


Our "advanced" classes were explained to us as 'teaching us the curriculum for the grade ahead of ours'. In Grade 9 we learned the Grade 10 curriculum; in Grade 10 we learned Grade 11; in Grade 11 we learned Grade 12. And then something happened. The gifted program ended in Grade 11 and in Grade 12 we just relearned our prior year's lessons. We were no further along then our main stream counterparts, except that we had been graded harder and taught faster.

When we all graduated we were awarded our 'gifted certificates' along with our diplomas. I've never even seen mine because my mother took it for 'safe keeping', and then disappeared from my life.

It doesn't matter though, the bloody thing isn't worth anything. Not. One. Thing. Not any extra awesomeness on a potential school application, nothing on a job resume, and not a thing to speak of to people. Worthless.



I look at my kids now and I think: "Big fish, little pond? What is so wrong with being a big fish in a little pond? Why would I want my kids to be put in a position where they could fail? In a position where they could lose self-esteem, social skills, a sense of accomplishment; for nothing?"



Big fish, little pond? Bring it on.

The Cycle

"Hey!! Why can't you just listen to me?!" I scream.

"I. Just. Can't. Get. This. Piece. Of. Crap. To. Work." I seethe through clenched teeth before hitting the computer...with my forehead...willing one of the two objects to shatter.

"Go to your room! NOWWWW!!!" the animalistic growls that escape me are hard to describe...and yet eerily similar to the ones I heard as a child.


I never learned what to do with my anger.


As a child I witnessed a lot of anger. A lot. And it always resulted in screaming, violence, belittling, and broken objects. As a child, you learn from what you see.

I often wonder how 'normal' people deal with their anger.

How other parents dealt with misbehaving children.


When I was in elementary school I would get in fistfights with other children. They would anger me and I would hit them, and then some of them would hit back.

I was so filled with rage that I used to 'black out' and not be able to remember what happened during these episodes. There was a lot of thrashing. And screaming.

As I entered my teens I began to internalize the anger. The scars up and down my arms can attest to that. There was still a lot of screaming and hitting things, anything to expel the rage that boiled within. One day I turned to alcohol. The rage wouldn't boil if it was so diluted by litres of booze. I don't think the rage could even simmer in those days.


As an adult, I have tried to teach myself more effective ways of dealing with my anger. I want to teach my children better ways of dealing with theirs. Ways of stepping back and calming down, rationalizing, using words instead of physical force...but it's difficult. It's difficult to teach them things that I haven't been practising all that long.

I have to keep trying. For them.

Hiding In Plain Sight

Happy First Day Back To School!

Not for Shake'n'Bake this year...she'll be starting Junior Kindergarten next year (in a better neighbourhood: win!) although I'm sure I'll be prepared much much earlier than September.

We started our Christmas shopping in June this year. Yes, June. We were out picking up a few things before the girls' birthdays and found a couple of things for Christmas. Then we made another big trip this past weekend to grab some Christmas presents.

I normally love to Christmas shop early in the year. I hate being in the stores in December if I don't have to be...things are too hectic then and I tend to get anxious, angry, and twitchy. So I avoid it whenever possible. The real kicker this year is that we are going to be demolishing, building, repairing, etc. for the last two weeks in October; then moving at the end of October; then unpacking and such during November and I am worried that I may be too busy then to Christmas shop.

So, to calm my worries, we have begun our Christmas shopping (I've actually finished 2 people already...back in August!) and that I am just packing the gifts as I purchase them.

Victory.

I was quite smug with this decision up until this weekend when I purchased a particular gift that is bigger than any of the boxes/containers that I have available for packing.

I stressed about it for a couple of days, and then decided to try the trick that my parents used on us: hiding it in plain sight.

Now, Splat is still young enough that she didn't even blink an eye when we were putting these gifts into the cart. She doesn't associate 'in the cart' with 'this will become mine' yet, so we're okay there. But Shake'n'Bake is old enough to understand alllllll of that and much more. Out of desperation I have hidden this present in the pile of already packed boxes and riff raff, and I am just hoping that when we go to move it that she won't notice.


O_o


Yes, that's my plan.

Is anyone else excited for Christmas?!? ZOMG I am so excited. Christmas in ma noo hows! Ahahahaha!

Keeper League

Last year was my first year watching/following/enjoying hockey.

When I was a wee sprout no one wanted to teach me anything about hockey, so I deflected it in my teenage years by feining disinterest. I really was interested, but I hated asking someone a question about it and getting the "uh...are you for real?" face.

It was awful.

Luckily, Boyfriend has a "of course I'll explain things to you! How would you know these things if no one has ever taught you before?" face; which is much more pleasant than all the other faces I've recieved. Along with watching the hockey games together, and having him explain all of the rules to me, he also asked me if I wanted to create a free account and play some Yahoo Fantasy Hockey with him.

It was so much fun! I'm still a pretty big n00b, and was too timid to trade any of my players last year (I even kept a few that I was angry with because of my loyalty issues) but I think I'll be able to make bigger strides this year.

Boyfriend and I have started a Keeper league in Yahoo, that allows each person to keep their players (most of them at least) from year to year, season to season, and build a successful team over several years.

Boyfriend has set up the Yahoo account and we are prepping everything for the upcoming season BUT we are looking for interested people to participate. This league goes beyond the normal Yahoo Fantasy Hockey leagues, it is much more in depth, has its own website elsewhere on the interwebs, and has additional levels of play (such as signing your players to 1,2,3 or even a 5 year contract), news, and 8 draft picks each season.

These multiple levels of awesomeness and play require that all the participants be active in their teams; building, dressing, and benching them as appropriate. Do the participants have to be competitive? No. As long as they are making the effort to play their teams, they don't need to smack-talk each other (I'm hilarious when I smack-talk) or become cut throat. Manage your team, and let the players work for you.

I am so super excited about this league. About being able to draft, build my team, sign them to contracts, trade, release, *pant pant* and do anything I can to build an amazing team in the years to come!

And so, loyal readers, if any of you happen to love hockey and would like to join OUR EpicFantasyHockeyLeagueOfWin-ness then send me an email at atasteofdysfunction@hotmail.ca

DOT CA!

Check out Yahoo.com and click through to Fantasy Hockey to read their rules and see how the first draft and stat-tracking will be done.

I Kicked A Mouse

Yepp. The awesomeness of that post title? Pure fact.

Remember Drizzle? You may remember my furry little house mouse from: Magical Mouse Fairy, one line in Fruity Whirls, and his namesake posts Super Drizzle and Super Drizzle Returns.

He met with his end when faced with a rat trap (much bigger than a mouse trap) which attempted to sever a limb, and then he dragged himself back into his mouse hole.

We haven't seen whisker or tail of him since. That was months ago.

A week ago we met our newest addition: Zipper!

Now, I'm no expert on mice, but I'm fairly confident that this is not Drizzle, they look similar, but I see differences. Also, Zipper is much faster than Drizzle was, and he is significantly less cocky.

What I like to think happened was that Drizzle dragged his mangled body home, and his wife and children nursed him back to health. His disability prevents him from leaving the home to forage for food, so he trained his children (specifically Zipper) in the way of the ninja, so that with the speed and stealth of a ninja he will be able to provide food for the whole family.

"You are learning well, Grasshopper."



Last night there was a massive thunderstorm. After I sat at the window in the dark watching the thunder, lightning, and pouring rain for a while; I decided to use the washroom and crawl into bed. I left the light out and relied on my night vision and knowledge of toilet location for my pre-bed-pee. I took two steps inside the washroom and kicked something small and soft.

"WTF?!? Was that a mouse?!" I thought, and hastily turned on the light. My inspection of the bathmat showed Splat's hairbrush as the only item on the ground. Sitting on the toilet I thought to myself how odd it was that the hairbrush felt so soft and full of innards when I kicked it, when lo and behold Zipper raced across the room at speeds unimaginable, came within 12 inches of my feet, zipped under the cabinet, behind the sink, and (I'm assuming) entered the area behind the vent to return to his house.

"JESUS HOLY F%*&ING KRIES ZIPPER!!!" I yelled, "You scared the ever-loving sh#% out of me!! Argh!"

Then I tried to calm down enough to sleep, and managed to hear him 'talking' to another mouse.


O_o


"And I was cleaning myself and this crazy b#$%^ walked right in and KICKED ME! Can you believe that?"

I Hope Mine's A Football

Pop Tarts are awesome.

They were a kind of forbidden fruit when I was a child, my parents would never 'buy that crap' which means that I am forced to buy them WHENEVER they're on sale now and devour them with the freedom that being an adult brings.

Don't get me wrong...I wouldn't feed that crap to my kids.




Remember when I posted about how crappy this apartment is?

So Landlord has decided that all of the toilet problems in the pit-hole of an apartment are caused by my use of tampons. After throwing a temper tantrum and cursing, angry texting me, arguing with me in my own home, and giving me a pleasant ultimatum; it has been determined that I have temporarily switched to pads.

Oh, and then I determined that I'm moving out.

Image from here.

Heyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!


The best part of this decision to move is that I already have another place to go.

With everything all lined up, and a lease that is eagerly awaiting my signature, we have given notice to LaLandlordPoopyHeadFace and I have already packed over ten boxes.

I excite easily.


My new house is going to have awesome amounts of epicness and happiness and I am so super excited it's ridiculous.


Top Five Best Things About My New House

1. It is not in the Ghetto

2. It has a backyard! Eeeeeeeee!

3. The girls are in a bedroom that has it's own door and is not in my room!

4. It comes with an oven.

5. There's a laundry room and a line for drying clothes outside in the summer.



So, I am going to be busy. I'm quite sure that you will all continue to exist without me, but I thought it would be polite to let you know.

Happiness!

I Want This Baby Carrier

The last time I had a baby carrier was when Shake'n'Bake was a wee tiny baby, and I had to creep out at night and pick up bottles for food.

Since then, a baby carrier hasn't really been in the budget (or at the top of my priority list), so I've been flexing my mom-pipes and carrying her when there isn't a stroller or shopping cart available.

Sometimes it's just better to pick her up and hold her anyways.

I follow a blog called Mama B that is currently giving away an ERGObaby Carrier.

Click on photo to go to ERGObaby's site.

Yeah, it looks awesome.

So I have entered Mama B's raffle, and if you want this awesome baby carrier (or if you know me personally and want to enter, then win, then give it to me) head on over to Mama B's site right now to read her post and the entry methods.

Do it.

And when you're over there, if you like giveaways, reviews on baby products, or super awesome blogs; consider following her!

 <center> <a href="http://mamabblog.com/"> <img src="http://i342.photobucket.com/albums/o440/meyer8907/MamaBbutton-2.png" /> </a></center>

Click on the button to go to Mama B's blog!

WowButter - A Review

Back in June, Boyfriend and I took the kids to a fair. Whilst touring the various tents with farm animals and information displays provided within, we noticed a lone table with teeny tiny packets of free something on them. Of course, we beelined straight for it (free is a word that courses through my veins with awesomeness).

Picture from here.

Imagine my surprise when I read the pamphlet and discovered that I could feed this to my toddlers right then and there.

WowButter is a PEANUT-FREE, soy, peanut-butter replacement. And the amazing thing is that it tastes almost identical to peanut butter.

Peanut butter connoisseurs will notice a difference, there is a slight discrepency in texture, but the pros far outweight a minimal texture difference. I can only imagine how amazing this must be for someone who has a peanut allergy, to be able to join in on some of the cultural staples of North America. To, potentially, have a peanut butter and jam sandwich for the first time ever. Ants on a log; peanut butter cookies; a spoonful of delicious-protein filled-comfort food.

I am blown away by the genuine service that the founders/creators of WowButter have done.

I am able to make my 3 year old and my 1 year old soy butter and jam sandwiches, and something so close to the peanut butter classic would not have been available to me before this.

The website: WowButter.com has recipes listed for their product as well. I have yet to try to bake anything with it, but I am looking forward to attempting a Soy Butter Cookie (since I am such a fan of the traditional peanut butter ones).

If you are a US resident, then you have the option of buying WowButter from Amazon.com, or PeanutFreePlanet.com, or from one of the many local retailers that carry it. If you are a Canadian resident, the online options aren't available (yet? Oh, please make it available to buy online in Canada), but you can purchase WowButter from several different retailers. Here is a complete list from WowButter's website.

WowButter is currently available in smooth and crunchy (like peanut butters), and I have only tried the smooth thus far, but it is delicious. As soon as Boyfriend and I finish our old container of peanut butter, the entire family will switch to WowButter (I only have it for the kids so far) to use for our normal peanut buttering needs. I am excited to try the crunchy version, as I was quite the crunchy peanut butter lover when I was a child.



Thank you WowButter, for providing a safe and affordable alternative to peanut butter.


If you'd like to send me free jars, I would not object. Just email me: atasteofdysfunction@hotmail.ca

Ghett-iquette

Welcome to the Ghetto!

To help you enjoy your visit with us, we have a quick information package for you to look at. Just some simple tips and rules that will help you enjoy your visit in a safe and convenient manner.


First of all, don't get mugged.

There are only two parking spots for visitors, and unfortunately one of them is full of the car that holds down the driveway. If you are first to arrive, please park immediately beside this blue car, on the same angle. You may nose in or back in, it is up to you. If you are second, third, etc. to arrive; then you must park on the street somewhere. We, at the Ghetto, are aware that the street signs say 'No Parking', but there are no alternatives I can offer you. Luckily, the neighbours seem pretty understanding about the whole situation. If possible, travel in pairs or groups.

If you make it through step one safely: then Welcome! You are now safe inside the walls. You may sit anywhere that you'd like to. Keep in mind, seating is limited. We use to have two couches here in the Ghetto, technically we still do, but unless you'd like to sit in the sweltering fog that is the loft-in-summer, there is only one couch. We can also provide five dining room chairs (from two different sets) and the cushioned top of the toybox (space may be shared with a buttload of stuffed animals).

You are now on child entertainment duties. Sure, they're not your kids, but you're a novelty to them. We can provide a translator for "Toddler-Gibberish", but the translator is not responsible for any actions caused by or to the children.


O_o


Please help yourself to a beverage. We offer: water, coffee, water, tea, milk, and water! Hot drinks will be served in one of our variety of mugs...let's call them 'an exotic collection' from 'various locations'.

Once you have succeeded in filling your bladder, make your way to our washroom. The facility is located just past the mountain of outdoor equiptment, shoe pile, and toys. There are two light switches but only one operates the light. Don't be concerned though, the other one doesn't do anything at all so there is no penalty for choosing wrong! In fact, many of our guests choose to flip both switches at the same time to ensure lighting for their waste management.

Should the toilet paper roll empty, please help yourself to one of the other rolls located in a pillar directly beside the toilet. In the event that all six of the provided toilet paper rolls should be used, the remainder of the residence's supply can be found in the cupboard - still within reach of a seated person.

Once you have finished managing your waste, please press and hold the lever to ensure maximum flushage. Be warned, this still may produce a slow pitiful fill that will end too soon and leave you staring at a larger bowl of your waste. Attempt to flush again. If, after two flushes your waste still has not vacated the bowl, it is now socially acceptable to leave it. Most times the toilet will fix itself.

Please be aware that there is no longer a mat surrounding the toilet. Due to a new 'addition' to our washroom facility, the toilet leaks water from the base upon flushing. The problem is most prominent along the sink side of the toilet, but please be aware of your foot placement upon flushing the toilet. The staff at the Ghetto will clean up the water at the end of every day - like normal - so please, don't worry about cleaning it.

That awful kybo smell is from the diapers in the garbage.

Lastly, The Ghetto is now a temporary residence to a billion or so ants. We vacuum the facility 4-7 times a day, and still they return to scamper the floors. To date, there have been no reports of bites, although The Ghetto can make no guarantees. Feel free to mash, squish, or otherwise cause demise to any ants that you see. Vacuuming may occur during your stay.


We appreciate your patronage, enjoy your visit in The Ghetto.

-dysfunction

Morning Rage

I have written in the past about my burning rage for mornings.

Of the bear that awakens within me when I am torn from my warm sheets, soft pillows, and drool spot on my bed.

How then, an epic battle must ensue as the real me must fight the bear to win back control of my body.

Usually coffee helps.



I think the bear had a head start this morning.

Picture from here.

Isn't this picture epic?! I Googled 'woman wrestling bear' and got this picture, which is much more appropriate. Now my morning is getting better.

I was woken up this morning over an hour early by Shake'n'Bake beginning to cry in her bed. Since our rooms are seperated only by a curtain, I called out: "What's wrong?" from the warmth of my bed.

"I want you to tuck my feet in and give me a kiss!" she cried.

"No," I replied, "I only tuck you in at bed time."

Then she lost it. Screaming Crying and kicking the bed, I tried to use my calm voice and tell her to take a breath or say the alphabet. No use. She screamed louder and kicked harder and then the bear sat on the happy mom I want to be.

When her fit was... 'resolved'... we couldn't go back to bed because her screaming had woken Splat up, and she wanted to be fed. I tried to lie in bed and feed her, in hopes that she would remain drowsy and we could all go back to sleep after.

Nope.

She was wide awake then too, babbling about the various parts of the room and laughing at the desperation on my face. "Happy Mom" then tried to get the day going in an attempt to forget the heinous crimes of the morning, so I announced that it was wake up time and that we were all supposed to get dressed.


I found a dead housefly in my jeans.

Splat is almost out of pants, and we have company today.

Shake'n'Bake has decided that she wants to be a baby again (or something, this is just an assumption) and has decided that she can no longer get dressed on her own. She cried when I said I wouldn't help her put her socks on.

Splat kicked me in the vagina when I was putting her shirt on.

Then she cried because I said 'ow' and told her 'gentle'.

Shake'n'Bake exploded into tears because she has forgotten how to operate shirts over the past two weeks, and can no longer get them over her head.

Then they touched my excema medicine (after I had an itch attack last night that was so bad I was crying).

Splat cried for no reason. A lot.

Shake'n'Bake was impatient and whiny for her breakfast.

Splat cried when I did her hair. And then again when I finished doing her hair.

And again when I was getting her water.

Oh, and I have a buttload of ants that have decided to make my house their house.

And then my internet didn't want to work again this morning...because it does that sometimes.


O_o


Yeah, so that's my morning thus far.

F. 'Happy Mom', I'm going to go have a coffee now.

Toddler Chores

Shake'n'Bake loves to help.

Some days, (more often than not,) this requires a bit of coercing.

O_o


After watching Shake'n'Bake's eagerness to help clean the house (which is in a constant state of dissarray) I decided to cash in on this and designate specific jobs just for her.

Awesome.

Enter: The Job Charts

What started out as one chart for the bathroom, quickly spread to her bedroom, and then the living room. (That is all of the rooms in my house. But dysfunction, what about the kitchen? Or your bedroom? All the same rooms. My bedroom and the girls' bedroom... divided by a curtain. Kitchen, dining room, living room, front hall? One room. And the bathroom.)

This is the bathroom job chart:

We each drew one picture representation of the job that needed to be done. That way, Shake'n'Bake felt included in making the charts, and she was more likely to do the jobs shown.

Put laundry in the laundry basket.

Put recycling in the recycling box.

Put diapers in the diaper bag.

This job chart was the first one that we created. It gave me the freedom to say: "Have you done your bathroom jobs?" and expect that she would then go and do them.

Then I let it get to my head.

Bedroom Jobs:

Created in the hopes that she would be equally as inspired to clean her bedroom... not really.

Make bed.

Put toys in baskets.

Put letter mats away.

Put stuffed animals in wagon.

The jobs from the bedroom were either too difficult or too time consuming, because she was not interested in doing any of them.

I still pushed through, and attempted to make  job chart for the living room.

 Tah dah!

Put colouring supplies back in desk.

Put shoes into shoe stand.

Put toys into basket.

Put books in bookshelf.

The jobs have now been removed from the 'job charts' and are now clothespinned to a line on the wall. That way, I can display the jobs that need to be done, and not all of them.

She's still not overly interested in them anymore, but she will clean (with grumbling) when I ask her to, and she's always excited to clean up everything for some allowance.

Nothing quite like the temptation of a quarter, dime, or nickle for her homemade piggy bank.